


The Bravest Stupidity

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was trapped in the cruel gaze of the closest thing her people would consider death incarnate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bravest Stupidity

**Author's Note:**

> 100+ hits on "Daddy's Here", so I give you my latest fic, "The Bravest Stupidity". 
> 
> This was a BLAST to write and hope you guys love it as much as I do! 
> 
> I am also going to offically announce that I will now be extending my hit count requirement to 200. I'm thrilled that so many of you are enjoying my work, but now it's reached a point where I need the extra time to make sure I give you my best! 
> 
> Thank you to every single person in this fandom for embracing and supporting me! Enjoy! 
> 
> Dedicated to: the-lady-princess-of-gallifrey This is for always having my back ;D

Marianne had noted her stupidity once; when she’d hacked away at the clinging tendrils of a spider’s web in her desperate pursuit of someone that managed to rekindle something in her she thought Roland had destroyed: hope.

Thankfully, her personal assessment had been wrong and that equally returned hope had blossomed into a bright and permanent blaze of joy and trust between her and the Bog King.     

This time, her stupidity was plain.

They’d been flying together through brush and bramble, over hills of mud and fungi and under mighty boughs of dangling moss. 

It was just another exploratory day in the Dark Forest for the two of them.

She had been restless and let playfulness take the lead of her sensibilities and with a burst of speed, she’d darted ahead of Bog, initiating a teasing game of chase.

If only his pace was as fast as his laughter, they’d both be miles away from here by now. 

No, Bog was _not_ to blame. 

This was entirely _her_ fault.  If only she’d shown the _slightest_ ounce of common sense and stayed beside him!  

But no, she had to go and be frivolous!

She thought she had nothing to fear in these woods any more.  It was ripe daylight, and she had flown through this place in the dead of night before, and all alone!  _None_ could question her _bravery_. 

Now, the winding paths were growing in familiarity, the goblins were her friends, their king was her lover and constant companion on these kinds of excursions.       

Some say that bravery is just the kindest word for stupidity.

In months past, Marianne would’ve scoffed at such an adage.

But in this moment, the words were as true as the sun.

This was the land _Bog_ had always known, not _her_.  It didn’t matter how many times they’d glided together through these twisting trees.

To a fairy, this was still the _wilderness_.

Wanting to jump out and surprise him, she had darted into a brief zigzag pattern until she finally earned a few precious seconds of his blindside.  She wasted no more time in vanishing behind an elm growing alongside a rocky slope. 

Her intentions had been pure.  She was just going to hide and try to scare Bog when he finally wandered close enough…

…but _she_ was the one that was _scared_.

So caught up in her plan as she touched down, she didn’t recognize the dreadful sound, at first, so she’d turned in the direction of its source. 

By the time her brain registered what her eyes were seeing and her ears were hearing, it was too late. 

She was trapped in the cruel gaze of the closest thing her people would consider _death_ incarnate.

In one blink, she’d gone from warrior to waif. 

Show her almost _any_ other enemy and she’d tackle it without any hesitation whatsoever.

Not _this_.

 _This_ was what nightmares were made of, and it was even _bigger_ than the few ones she’d seen in her lifetime of living in the open Fairy Kingdom.

There was _no_ way to win against _this_.

Killer.

Monster.

 _Demon_.

Even as a child, Marianne had always assumed that being ‘frozen with terror’ was a laughable exaggeration.  Wings made for a quick escape from peril.

Not _this_ time. 

 _This_ time, _nothing_ in her arsenal could guarantee her an escape.

Not her wings.

Not her feet.

Not her fists.

Not even her _sword_. 

Regardless, her instinct was thrashing around inside of her like an angry child.

_Fly!  Fly!  Fly!_

Like a stone, her logic pressed firmly for the negative.

In the theatre of her mind were scales, like the kind used in the markets to measure produce and gold coins.  The plates teetered back and forth, trying to select an option that even had a _remote_ possibility of sparing her life.

Black and forked, the demon’s tongue flicked out at her, smelling and savoring her potent fear.    

So far, she had possessed enough brain cells to remember to keep perfectly still.  The fact that she hadn’t so much as twitched was probably the _only_ reason she still had a pulse.

The violent and horrifically painful end the demon would give her kept her limbs locked in place, but _she_ was the one that had startled _it_ with her abrupt appearance. 

Any sudden movement was _certain_ to spur the demon to attack.

It was a standoff.  Either she wait for it to just go ahead and kill her or grow bored and slither away. 

 _Or_ …

She could take flight and foolishly pray that she was faster.       

That awful rattling was tearing at her ears, much more unbearable than some moaning chorus of a melodramatic song, but she dared not cover them. 

Those ghoulish and unblinking yellow eyes watched her form with disturbing diligence.

Waiting…

Waiting for her fatal mistake…

Her heart was ramming against her rib cage.  Her lungs ached from her forced method of breathing: silent, but shallow.  Her palms began to sweat.  Her skin prickled like she was being stabbed with a thousand tiny thorns. 

The _panic_ was setting in and, as a result, instinct was starting to _outweigh_ the logic. 

_Fly!  Fly!  Fly!_

When prey faced predator, to each their own:

Mice scurried.

Turtles tucked.

Fish swam.

Fairies flew.

_Come on!  Fly!  You can make it!  Fly!  If it wanted you dead, it would’ve struck by now!  Fly!  You’ll get away!  Fly!  It won’t catch you!  Fly!_

_Fly!_

_Fly!_

_FLY!_

The repetitive mental command finally managed to give her flaccid wings the most miniscule of quivers. 

The demon’s deceptively flat head raised by a hair, already sensing her intent.

 _Hurry!  Fly!  This is your only chance!  Fly!  Just one more push and_ - _!_

“Marianne.”

**_BOG!_**

She hadn’t even heard him approach!  How long had he been here?! 

The fairy was _barely_ able to stifle her gasp of equal parts relief and anguish.  She couldn’t, however, stop the burning onslaught of welling tears.

Few things in life gave her as much consolation and pleasure as Bog’s voice, but what ripped at her insides was to think that, very soon, she would never hear it again after only knowing him for five months.    

It wasn’t _fair_! 

And it was all her own _stupid_ fault!

Because she had thoughtlessly pushed her luck for a childish whim!

Noticing the also unwelcome newcomer, the demon increased the tempo of its rattle and retracted its head.  Its patience, and Marianne’s luck, was running out.

As much as she was trying to hold it together, Marianne could _feel_ herself trembling as her sorrow grew. 

Bog sounded as if he was only about a foot behind her, but spinning around to look at him one last time was out of the question.  She absolutely did _not_ want to see the expression of pure horror on his face when the demon took her, if she made _that_ choice.

But what was _so_ much _worse_ for her, was the _emotion_ she’d heard in his voice when he’d addressed her: cautious, but hissing and just as deeply frightened as she was feeling.

She _knew_ what that meant.  

They were _both_ in _serious_ danger, though _she_ was the one in closer range, but if she was killed, _he_ would _die_ making the demon pay for her loss. 

Her _brave stupidity_ was going to cost her her life _and_ her love.   

“Marianne,” Bog repeated lowly, “listen tah me very, _very_ carefully and do _exactly_ as I say.”   

Faced with the succinct likelihood of never hearing his rumbling brogue again, right now, she’d do _anything_ he wanted.  If this was to be her final comfort, she’d rather it be him than anything else in creation. 

“What _ever_ ye do… _dorn’t_ fly.”

The scales in her brain instantly tipped back in logic’s favor and she felt the chorded muscles in the juncture of her wings ease their budding tension. 

Her instinct was strong, but her trust in Bog was _stronger_.

“Dorn’t look away from it.”

She processed his words and felt something stir.  Part of her almost found it tragically humorous that he apparently thought there was a way to help her out of this beyond dire situation…and yet…

They _were_ in _Bog’s_ domain.  He was far more accustomed to all the lethal things lurking in the Dark Forest’s depths. 

Perhaps he knew a surer way?

 _How_ did he _always_ manage to give her hope no matter _how_ apprehensive she was to accept it?    

“As slowly and steadily as ye can, back away here tah me.”

Her hope nearly turned to dismay.  His suggestion sounded as fatal as flying…but…

The stone of logic expanded into a boulder.  It _was_ a _gamble_ , but it made _sense_.  If the demon reacted to swiftness, then if she moved as calmly and gradually as possible…she just _might_ …!

Keeping her still acutely wary eyes on the demon and her upper body stiff as an icicle, Marianne slid her right foot back across the ground, making sure the action was sluggish and stable. 

The demon only whipped its tongue again.

So far, so good.

Her left foot followed suit…

...and a stray wood chip cracked under her heel.

The soulless eyes now seemed to _glare_ at her as the demon’s neck rose up from its coils and cringed.  Somehow, the rattling _spiked_ in volume.  It was _agitated_ now and unquestionably poised to strike.

Marianne froze all over, her panic renewing itself.  She _hated_ this feeling of weakness, but alas, a fiery personality did _not_ make one immortal.  She didn’t know _how_ she was able to choke out a cry only Bog could hear.        

“I-I _can_ ’ _t_!  I can’t do it!”

After everything she’d gone through to become the fairy she wanted to be, she never thought those detestable words would ever leave her lips.  They left such a foul taste in her mouth, she wanted to vomit, but she couldn’t help it.

Some things in this world were just _too_ terrifying for _anyone_.

“Yes, ye _can_!”  Bog urged in a hushed tone that brooked no argument despite its tremor.  “Yer my Tough Girl, remember?  _You_ can do _anything_ , Marianne!” 

!

…

Something ignited in her breast…

…a spark…

…a pop…

…a flash…

An _inferno_.

But _other_ things in this world were just too _wonderful_ to _give up_ on. 

Gritting her teeth, Marianne resumed her languid retreat with fresh, but precarious, confidence as Bog coaxed and praised her all the way.  

“Tha’s it…come tah me…ye can do it………ye’re doin’ fine, luv……keep lookin’ a’ it………slowly………slowly………jus’ like a wee snail……good…good………ye’re almos’ there…keep goin’.”

The demon licked the heavy air.

The moment of truth came as soon as Marianne’s back touched the ridged planes of Bog’s stomach:

…It all happened in the mere breath of a second…

Bog seized her around the waist and immediately, they were airborne.

The demon’s scaly body shifted and shot forward.  Its jaws unhinged and those two unholy daggers of venom came streaking towards them.

It was too close.

They weren’t going to make it.

Marianne screamed as Bog resorted to their only remaining defense.

With a furious roar, he swung his staff and the knotted base slammed into the side of the demon’s head, knocking it off course…

…and giving _them_ their freedom. 

* * *

Bog zipped through the trees, using speed he hadn’t thought his body was _capable_ of exuding. 

He hadn’t the _faintest_ idea how long he’d been flying, nor _where_ he was going.  His nerves were still so on edge, he couldn’t remember the correct way back to the castle. 

All he knew and _cared_ about right now, was the shaking fairy in his arms and getting them _both_ somewhere _safe_.

He had _never_ felt fear the way he had felt it today.

One minute he was chasing her through the forest like a love-struck sparrow, the next, he was standing and watching helplessly as she was trapped in death’s unforgiving gaze.

How could he have been so _stupid_?! 

Why didn’t he _warn_ her against going so far off on her own?!

Why hadn’t he paid more attention to his _senses_ and _smelled_ that there was a bloody _snake_ in the area?! 

 _Never_ had he felt so _powerless_! 

 _Brave_ and fierce as he was, _no one_ was a head-on match for that _demon_.  No matter how much he wanted to smash its head to pieces and flay the rest of its accursed hide!      

Too many times had he seen goblins snatched away by its kind, but being eaten was a _mercy_ compared to what he had seen happen when only a bite was made.

Endless wretched shrieking and convulsing, blood gushing from the eye sockets, flesh melting and peeling off the bone. 

He’d be _damned_ if he’d see Marianne suffer such a fate, so he'd swallowed his savage instincts and chose the logic of talking her through it. 

Loathed creatures such as _that_ one were unfortunately more commonplace in the Dark Forest, but the silver lining was that the goblins knew more about them and how to avoid them. 

Bless any and all virtuous deities in _existence_ that it had _worked_!

At last, he spotted a place of temporary refuge:

A briar patch.

He swooped, entered the bush with ease and worked his way to their roots.  Nothing could reach them there.

He gracelessly crashed into the soil, covering Marianne’s lithe body and clutching her as tightly against him as he could. 

She clung to _him_ with _just_ as much vigor.

Together they held each other, chests heaving with whimpering breaths and hands sliding over shoulders-spines-heads, reassuring themselves that they were both alive and uninjured.

“We’re safe, luv.”  He said, nuzzling her wet cheek with a quivering sigh.  “We’re alrigh’ now.  I’ve go’ ye.  We’re safe.”  

Marianne gulped down the desert in her throat, but didn’t reply.  She didn’t _need_ to.  Bog’s obvious signs of distress and soothing murmurs were _vastly_ helping her cope with this raw feeling of vulnerability she’d thought she’d left behind on that failed wedding day.

Eventually, their hearts relaxed, their breathing evened out and their groping became less frantic. 

Needless apologies were offered.

Warm caresses were given.

Tender kisses were exchanged.

Staunch promises were made.

This would not be the last time that they would face something they couldn’t defeat with their preferred offensive tactics.

…and that was okay…

Because what mattered the _most_ was that they would do whatever it took to _survive_ and live the life they wanted to share together.

They were _both_ brave _and_ stupid. 

…

…

…

But _love_ is the _bravest stupidity_.

   

       

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, there's me tryin' to be all wise and junk. Bleh!  
> I hope I managed to explore Marianne's vulnerability without taking away from her natural spunk. Bog too, but Marianne was my main focus. 
> 
> Anybody catch the Sherlock reference?
> 
> If you liked it, please let me know via comment/kudos! I want to hear from my readers <3


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